Prophecy of the World's Beginning
Universal Prophecy The gods have completed all that they have created and start their journey towards the end. Though 400 years have passed through the world it is still fresh and a new. The times of change are coming and history begins to record and not just wait for things to happen. A top a writhing termite mound, a pipe in his mouth, and a moth on his hat, Jakkal Un surveys the path before him. There is sun in the sky above his head, ice and snow before him, and calm at his rear. He breathes a great sigh, for he would much rather be doing something else, but alas, duty is duty. With a weary, heartfelt sigh, he hops off the mound and into the dirt at his feet. He lifts his leg and the sun begins to move, the ice begins to thaw, and the calm begins to shake. Jakkal Un is walking, and the seasons begin to dance. The god-hunter Gath steps into the open woodland surrounding the enormous fallen tree-trunk that marks this spot as his own sacred ground. He stands tall, antlered deer-hide helm draped over his shoulders and head as his hooves softly crush the leaf litter covering the forest floor. His breath turns to thick fog as he exhales, with his bone-white spear in his hands and his companion avatar, Darkpaw by his side. He slinks off into the fresh morning forest with his friend, not knowing what they will find. But they know one thing; Today they will hunt. Meanwhile, besides the northern shore, bathed in moonlight, a lone monk takes an empty his empty vessel and lets it drink in the fresh water. knee deep, Sugar-Carp swim aroubd his ankles, the nocturnal creatures feeding off the glittering light reflecting and refracting on the ocean surface. The cold bites but he knows he must do this one task. If you asked him why, and could he speak, he would be at a loss for an explenation. How could he explain the divine pressence that filled him as he fills his lantern like vessel. All he knows is that the festival in town will wish him well on his pilgrimage to the south, and that somehow, another monk, the yang to his yin, is doing the same thing, and will bring the first fire to his people... And hopefully they'll accept his water in return. Standing high on a narrow ridge, her wings painted pink and gold by the setting sun and seven feathered companions perched around her, Asha watches. her seven eyes on the golden chain around her neck look lazily on at a quaint human village in the valley below. They are completley oblivious, busy finishing their evening chores and preparing for the night ahead, a few humans are chatting calmly in the tavern about farm animals and this years harvest. So boring, how can these mortals stand it? No music or dancing, no barfights, not even a heated arguement. Asha smiles and produces a glass cello from beneath her cloak, turning to her largest companion, "pascall stay here" she tells the bird and he nods. Asha drops down into the valley and pulls her hood down over her pupiless eyes, she begins to stride purposefully towards the town. She had work to do. Sol hangs suspended in the centre of his Penrose Tower. The many mirrors of Silver flicking around him to show all that is happening below on the surface. His mind a rush with thought and clarity, he designates the alignment of the stars for the evening to come then lets in the sun's light before it disappears to the other side of the planet again. Night comes as the stars start to climb into the heavens. Each one of them finds it's point and starts to whir, giving off a magnificent light as it does. Everything shall be fine for this night, but soon the world will start to write and learn and then when the dawn of history comes understanding, comprehension, the very start of it all being torn down. The Penrose Tower, flicked all it's mirrors shut and for the first time Sol was in Darkness.